


Sabotage and Subversion

by Lycaste



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Conflicting Loyalties, Denial of Feelings, Explicit Sexual Content, Identity Issues, Loneliness, Mutual Pining, Other, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Secret Relationship, possibly slight AU?, tfw your crush really doesn't mean that much to you honest, themes of hope and loss, thundercracker's burgeoning identity crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 15:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5295731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lycaste/pseuds/Lycaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thundercracker insists to himself that this is the last time he’ll have anything to do with the little yellow Autobot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sabotage and Subversion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Owlix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlix/gifts).



> Full disclosure: I wanted to write something angsty (not my usual fare), in the present tense (which I'm not very experienced with), and based on my memory of older events in the IDW timeline (MISTAKE). Yet after I finished and went through the issues I realized I had remembered some things incorrectly, and this didn't really fit where I thought it did. Oops. So I'm saying it takes place in an extended time frame somewhere between issues 6 and 9 of the Transformers ongoing (shortly after the Autobots start working with Skywatch). So possible slight AU, my excuse for everything.
> 
> A big, energon-candy-coated thank you to the amazing Owlix for looking at this for me. Thank you, Owlix! <3

  
  


"What did you just do?! You betrayed us! You betrayed - you're a _Seeker!_ "

-Skywarp, _All Hail Megatron #12_

 

Thundercracker can’t pinpoint exactly when it all began. A bright smile here. A cube of energon there. Repeated offers of unwanted companionship. Too late he realized that it was all a form of sabotage, and extricating himself from the trap was harder than he would have imagined.

The yellow minibot is laughably small in his lap. Thundercracker parts his thighs and allows Bumblebee to straddle one leg and slide forward, colliding into his cockpit glass with a clunk. The panel covering his interface array slides open, exposing the housing for his cables and ports.

It should be disgusting. It isn't.

Bumblebee's optics are fiery splashes of blue, such a foreign color to stare into during an interface. He wriggles in Thundercracker's lap and revs his engine hard enough to send a tremor rattling through both their frames. The televisions glow behind him, their fuzzy white static outlines the graceful curve of Bee’s doorwings and the sharp points of his unique helm decoration. He's all tiny tires and headlights, a pleasing contrast of textures and circles. His stubby fingers grope for Thundercracker's power cable, and his lips round into a delighted circle when they find it.

A scrape at the door has Thundercracker spinning up his targeting software and putting his blasters on standby. But there's no one there, only the nighttime desert wind whipping at the walls of his hideout. No one to see him reclining on a couch made of flattened human vehicles, trembling as the enemy tugs on his equipment.

It should be disgusting. It isn't. What would Skywarp say to that?

_What did you just do?!_

"Hey." Bumblebee's voice pushes aside the image of his Trinemate's ( _former_ Trinemate's) gun in his face. He flicks his optics to the door, and then back to Thundercracker as he winds the cable around his wrist. "We’re alone."

"Yeah." Thundercracker strokes the piece of armor covering Bumblebee's hip joint. He could easily rip it off and crush the pieces under his heel. Instead he simply watches the thick black cord twirl in the Autobot's fingers. Like it's Bumblebee that's dangling _him_ on a string. 

"You still wanna do this?" The cover to Bee's interface panel snaps back, revealing three slender wires packed neatly in their housing and three just-wide-enough ports.

"Yeah," repeats Thundercracker. He doesn't trust himself to say anything else. Molten shame spins his turbines because he _does_ want this. Badly. Needs it, much to his growing unease. Because rather than slaking his desire, these secret trysts merely serve to inflame it. The more they interface, the more he needs it. 

Bumblebee sticks out a silver tongue and flicks it across the tip of Thundercracker's cable. "We can synch to you, if you want." His expression lies somewhere between mischievous and hopeful.

He does this every time. Thundercracker grits his teeth. Bumblebee always offers to let Seeker systems dictate the speed and power of their energy transfer, as if his frame could handle it without getting fried. "No," he says sharply. "We'll synch to you. Hurry up already."

"Just offering." Bee jiggles the main power cable into his tiny port. The connection flares to life, cycling electrical current between them at the speed governed by Bumblebee's safeguards.

Thundercracker eyes his wide cord crammed into Bee's body. His limbs grow warm and tingly from the resulting power surge. The pulse stimulates deeply buried nerve circuits, causing a network of electrifying bursts to erupt beneath his plating and down his back strut.

Bumblebee plucks the next cable from Thundercracker's side. It's thinner and more flexible, a thermoplastic sheath covering the fiber-optic cord for data transmission.

It's funny how Bee always connects the wires in the same order. Power, data, spark. Thundercracker supposes that most bots have a preference, although his Trine never did. Warp was more likely to fumble them together, not caring if he shorted anything out by sticking the wrong plug in the wrong hole. But Bumblebee turns it into a slow ritual, the predictability somehow heightening the suspense. It's like...foreplay. Or what Thundercracker images it's like. Until recently, foreplay was an experience that basically consisted of Starscream talking about himself.

The data cable goes in easier, and the first trickle of information from Bumblebee's systems appears on Thundercracker's HUD. The grounder's engine is slow and weak. How can anyone function with a body that moves so sluggishly? The readout is strangely exotic too. No coordination of turbines or reports about a partner's wings or flight settings. Bumblebee's interface programming always seems overly simple at first. It grinds Thundercracker's response time to a near halt.

Bumblebee's mouth drops open. The tires on his arms start to spin. "Good?" he asks.

Thundercracker grunts. He doesn't want to appear too impatient, but it takes forever for Bee’s side to connect and tell his central processor that it's pleasure he’s experiencing. It happens so slowly that he can't help but chase it, tipping his head back and squirming for more.

Bumblebee makes eye contact and telegraphs his every intention as he grabs the back of Thundercracker’s neck and tugs him downwards to press their lips together.

The knot in Thundercracker’s spark unwinds. He sighs into the kiss and skates a hand down his own plating to pull out his last cable. What should be a tease is an over-eager rush for more. Steadying Bumblebee along the spinal strut with the other hand, he plugs in the third wire.

For a second, his vision becomes the same static snow as the televisions in front of him. But then his optics reset, the interface cycle completes, and strut-quaking pulses of spark energy zip through the line. They're connected on every level now, snaps of electricity mingling with programmed completion on top of energetic bliss radiating from the core.

Bumblebee curls into him and props his head on the top edge of Thundercracker's cockpit, gasping and shaking.

It should be undignified. It isn't.

"Bee..." Thundercracker likes everything about the minibot when they're like this, from the way he shudders to the smell of his tires to those silly pseudo-wings. Being with Starscream was never this satisfying. In a way, it's better than it was with Skywarp too.

"You're tensing up," whispers Bumblebee. "Something wrong?"

"No." He sags further into the crunched pile of cars, tilting Bee to rest across his front.

"Good." Bumblebee's optics are almost white, and tendrils of steam rise steadily from the seams along his back. "No one should be this sexy," he breathes.

“That’s right.” Thundercracker can’t help but flutter his wings and smirk. "Tell me how hot I am."

Bumblebee tries to scoff, but his voice fractures. “Seekers.”

The transfer picks up, and with it the restless feeling of being on the cusp of a ferocious release. The pitch of Thundercracker’s engine drops to a deeper rumble as his hands roam over Bumblebee's frame. He should be ashamed of the noises he's making, but he doesn't care. Not with Bumblebee's programming informing him how good to feel and his sensor net crackling with the rising charge.

Another advantage of synching to Bumblebee is that there's no possible way for Thundercracker to come first. As good as it is, he can't achieve an overload at this speed and power. He needs Bee to tip over to give him that final push. Their differences in frame type have saved him from more than one embarrassing incident.

But Bee's fans are whining with exertion and he's moaning _so_ desperately. If one of them doesn't come soon, Thundercracker is going to go mad. He eyes Bee's door wings. They don't have the responsive flight-sensor network of Seeker wings, but he's found that if he rubs the hinges during the height of their energy exchange, the Autobot becomes a shivering, keening mess.

It works every time. 

Bumblebee grips him tightly, seizes up, and the speed of his internal components approaches something almost respectable. He then makes the sweetest sound and comes near sobbing into Thundercracker's neck.

Bee's overload races across the lines, like a missile that drops Thundercracker out of the sky. An onslaught of interface commands inform him that nothing exists but an overwhelming euphoria _._ A quick pulse triggers his struts to compress, and the rush overtakes him in deep, throbbing waves. He throws his arms around Bee and crushes them together. It’s never felt like this during a climax before, so perfectly connected that Bumblebee is a part of him.

The part that he shouldn't need, but wants anyway.

Thundercracker holds Bee tighter and focuses on the looping data transmission. He has safeguards in place against a serious sonic boom, but that doesn't stop his ailerons from twitching frantically. His afterburners flare to life, and all the spinning parts of an aroused flyer frame hum loudly enough to cover the low groans of two overloading mechs.

The crest is fierce and the come down is slow. Time between peak amplitude gradually lengthens. Thundercracker's solid grip on Bee's side becomes a lazy stroke as his pulse slows in its casing.

A drained giggle comes from his neck. Bumblebee kisses his cheek. "Wow."

Thundercracker raises an arm to pat him on the helm. "What?"

"Are all Seekers as noisy as you when they overload?"

"Excuse me?”

"I'm not complaining!" says Bee quickly. "And I'm only gonna say this once." He sweeps his optics up and down Thundercracker's frame before breaking into a grin that's part sly, part shy. "But you are really, _really_ hot."

Thundercracker’s spark falls into his tailfins with that weird flippy feeling. "I know," he says casually.

"Unbelievable." Bumblebee gently unplugs the cables and feeds them into their housing. 

This is another ritual that makes Thundercracker uncomfortable. Bee never leaves his partner to deal with his own cables. He's considerate about it, unplugging them with an almost delicate reverence and guiding them as they retract. It's painfully sweet, yet totally unassuming. Thundercracker itches to snatch them away and tell him to stop, but he doesn’t.

When they're somewhat put together again, Bee slides off his lap and leans against him on the couch. The companionable silence never lasts long.

"There's something I wanna ask you," says Bee.

Thundercracker tenses. What could this be? It's either something to do with fighting or something to do with fragging. Either way, he doesn't want to talk about it. "Stop right there," he snaps. "Not interested."

"We interrupted a transmission about two rogue Decepticons attacking a nearby hydroelectric dam," says Bee, completely ignoring him. "It's Hammerbolt and Ironstar. They're gonna do it tomorrow."

Thundercracker remembers them. The twitchy tank and his plane buddy. Ironstar isn’t a Seeker, but that never stopped him from repeatedly trying to join Starscream’s corps. It doesn’t matter. Seeker or not, Thundercracker wants nothing to do with him. "No."

"We're really shorthanded, and I have no one to help me on this. Half our fighters are injured, and Optimus is...well...."

"I don't care," says Thundercracker, making a point _not_ to look into Bee's optics. "No."

"An attack on the dam could damage it," says Bee. "It could ruin their ecosystem, mess up their infrastructure."

"Not my problem."

Bumblebee shuffles onto his knees, grabs Thundercracker's chin, and forces him to look at him. "People could get hurt."

Thundercracker makes the big mistake of sighing out loud. Any emotion is a weak display, a crack in his armor that Bumblebee can tear open.

"Come on," says Bee. "Don't pretend like you don't need some action. You can't go out once and have that fill your quota for the rest of your life. You're still a warrior."

Not the warrior slag again. Thundercracker bristles. The worst part is that something always rings true about it, no matter how much it aggravates him.

"Look," says Bee, finally letting go of his chin. "These people need us. Anyone with a code of honor couldn't let this go. We can't let the humans keep paying for _our_ war."

Oh, he's good. The little yellow guy is far more devious than he appears. Thundercracker _knows_ he's gonna get involved, but he dredges up his last-ditch argument anyway. "You know it's hopeless, right? Fighting. Getting involved." _Caring about people._ "It's all hopeless."

"Of course it is." Bee's eager expression never falters. "But that doesn't mean that you shouldn't try to make things better anyway."

The damage is done. They both know he's gonna come along. He can't let Bee do this alone. "You're an idiot, Autobot."

"So you'll help me then?"

"Fine," rumbles Thundercracker. "But this is the _last_ time."

"Great! I'll come get you tomorrow morning." Bee kisses him softly on the lips. "Hottie.”

The polarity of Thundercracker’s spark flips again.

This is definitely a form of sabotage.

~~~~~~

Since the day he came online, Thundercracker has tried to make stoicism his default setting.

While other Seekers fell to their lusts and anger, he sought to remain rational. Let Skywarp have his pranks and Starscream his temper tantrums, staying in control was what granted true power.

He’s in control now, as he prepares for the mission while watching TV. Weapons are fully charged; flight systems pass a thorough diagnostic. Best to have everything working properly before confronting any of his former teammates, even if he can easily beat them. 

He doesn't want to fight anymore. He's tired of fighting, tired of dealing with other people. It's better alone. And he was doing good with it, he was doing _fine_ until Bumblebee started showing up and asking for more help, making Thundercracker smile and making that stifling feeling in his chest loosen.

Their first time had been unexpected, one of those snarky comments that was actually acted upon. Thundercracker never would have guessed that Bumblebee was such a hot frag. When questioned about it, he’d simply shrugged and said that he'd trained as a saboteur under Jazz, as if that explained everything.

They synched to Bee during every interface. Thundercracker was afraid of what would happen if they set the pace of their interfacing to him. He was so much larger, his frame and energy output so much more powerful. He didn’t care _that_ much about the Autobot, but frying his partner's processor wasn't very sexy. And yet the selfless idiot still asked to synch to Thundercracker every time. 

Bumblebee does have his limits though. One night, when they were connected and groaning through a luscious data transfer, Bee had leaned in a little too fast.

Without thinking, Thundercracker had punched him in the face.

Bumblebee had toppled off him and landed halfway across the room with a dented helm and a cracked optic. The pain from the interrupted interface circuit had hurt far less than Bumblebee's wounded expression. He was freaked out too, as if he hadn't considered fragging a former Decepticon Seeker could be dangerous. "What the hell was that for?!"

"I..." Thundercracker had struggled to answer because what the hell _was_ that for? An automatic reaction to someone's face getting too close to his. "I thought you were gonna head-butt me."

"During an interface? Who does that?!"

"You’re the one making aggressive movements!"

Bumblebee had gaped at him before finally saying, "Aggressive? I was gonna kiss you, you impossible glitch."

Oh. Kissing. Right. There was a lot of kissing during interfacing on human television. Was it common with Autobots too? Thundercracker didn't know, and despite his guilt, he’d refrained from extending a hand to help Bumblebee off the ground.

"You do know what kissing is?" asked Bee.

"I know what kissing is," sneered Thundercracker. He and Skywarp had kissed plenty of times. Usually a quick peck on the wing or a harsh bite. But never _during_ interfacing. That was...too sentimental and pointless. The wrong kiss at the wrong time might result in an aft kicking, or get one branded as a sappy frag. No Decepticon wanted a reputation like that, especially when one was trined with Starscream. "Sorry. We don't...you know, do that."

Eventually Bumblebee had pulled himself to his feet, wiped his nose, given him a tight-lipped nod, and said, "It's cool. I get it," before heading towards the door.

"Wait...Bee...I..." Faced with the reality of Bumblebee actually _leaving,_ Thundercracker had been compelled to apologize. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Bumblebee had stopped with the door open. "It’s okay. Everybody's got their own...thing." He'd spun his hand in the air as he'd said it. "I’m gonna go."

Thundercracker had wanted to launch himself after Bumblebee and beg him to stay, but he'd forced himself in place. Decep- _Seekers_ didn't beg. It had been an accident. Bee would get over it or not, and Thundercracker would have a night of blissful, anesthetizing quiet and actual slagging peace. He was better off without anyone anyway.

He'd spent the rest of the night telling himself that, as the televisions offered hours of Earth stories and his body screamed for Bumblebee's programming.

~~~~~~

Within two weeks, they were making out shamelessly.

Thundercracker realizes he's a bad kisser. It's weird. He can't remember the last time he was actually _bad_ at anything. He's awkward and sloppy and his timing sucks but Bumblebee doesn't seem to care. Now, checking his fuel readouts and ammo storage, his fingers wander to brush his own lips, aching at the memory of Bee’s hungry kisses. His other hand reaches down to trace the outline of his interface panel.

There's a knock at the door and then a pause. Bumblebee waits a few polite seconds before sliding it open. "Hey!" He eyes Thundercracker from pedes to helm, wearing the same stupidly cute expression that he always does. "Ready to go?"

Thundercracker ignores the quiver in his energon converter. "Yeah."

"Great. I really appreciate this." Bee’s optics glow brighter for a second. "Okay. I texted you the location of the dam. You can match pace with me in the air. If you get there first, try to stay out of sensor and visual range. Oh, and no sonic booms," he adds. "We need to keep this quiet. The more humans that find out about this, the worse it looks for the Autobots. They can't tell the difference between our side and your side." He stops and frowns. "Erm, our side and their side. Sorry. But yeah, keep it quiet. No sonic booms if you can help it."

This whole thing is sounding dumber by the second. "How are we gonna stop Hammerbolt and Ironstar without making a lot of noise?"

“We’re gonna use your commanding presence,” says Bee, hands on his hips. The picture of confidence.

"Okaaay." Thundercracker makes no attempt to hide the doubt in his voice. He ushers Bumblebee towards the door and succumbs to the temptation to ask the question that's been on his mind all day. "Why are you asking me to do this again? Why not go with another Autobot?"

Bumblebee laughs, but it's not the normal, easy-going sound. The harmonics are off. "Well, you know. You're more powerful than a group of Autobots and you're discreet and I figured it’d be best to have a flier with me." He coughs static. "Besides, I thought it might be nice for you to get out of this place and spend some time with a buddy."

"A buddy," says Thundercracker.

"Don’t get all weird about it. I just need your help.” Bumblebee’s motor turns over with an audible chunk, exhaust pouring from his tailpipe. He looks at Thundercracker like they _are_ buddies, like the Seeker couldn't demolish him with the barest of effort. "Come on, let's go. We've got some desert to cover."

_We are getting way too chummy,_ thinks Thundercracker as they exit his hideout. He watches Bumblebee transform into his useless grounder alt mode. _This isn't a date and it isn't a friendship. He only shows up when he wants something._

This farce is cutting into his television time. He doesn't want to be involved in the war, in fighting and killing and thinking about Skywarp. And as long as he's fragging someone, he'll never escape from it. He's better off alone.

Thundercracker transforms and takes to the sky, insisting to himself that this is the last time he’ll have anything to do with the little yellow Autobot. 

~~~~~~

Using Thundercracker’s commanding presence means tricking the Decepticons into thinking that he’s come to take charge. Distracting them long enough to take them down. 

It’s working. 

He can't believe it, but it is. Traitor or not, the sound of his voice over a Decepticon comm frequency is enough to force Ironstar out of the sky in sheer terror.

The plane lands next to his grounder friend, babbling excuses as to why they're running an unauthorized mission. They didn't know someone had taken control of Megatron's abandoned forces on Earth, least of all one of his top Seekers. Soon Hammerbolt joins in, trying to wheedle his way into Thundercracker's good graces with promises of energon and Autobot killing.

For a brief minute, they're on the ground and talking fast while Thundercracker circles overhead. Plenty of time for Bumblebee to spring from his hiding place and shoot them both.

But when Bumblebee takes the shot and misses, he's not ready for a wild Decepticon response. He thinks he is, hurtling forward and continuing to shoot, but he's not. His spark thinks it's housed in Optimus Prime's body.

Realizing they've been had, the rogue Decepticons attack. Retreat is the best option, but destruction is much more gratifying. Ironstar transforms and corkscrews into the air. He targets Thundercracker and fires a volley of missiles.

They're easily dodgeable. Thundercracker is more maneuverable. Faster and stronger. He should be able to win the fight easily, but then he notices Hammerbolt on the ground. The tank has Bumblebee pinned, one arm holding him down and the other arm punching at his helm.

Thundercracker's fuel tank performs a quick twist and drop. _Bee!_ He fires his laser blasters and hits Hammerbolt in the shoulder.

The shot throws the tank off Bumblebee, but Thundercracker pays for his inattention. A missile grazes his nosecone. That in itself wouldn't be too much of a problem, but it causes him to drift by a few degrees. Sloppy. Too late he hears Starscream's dramatic shriek in his head, a parting gift from countless training sessions.

_"Always have an optic on where you're going, dammit! Stop paying so much attention to where you've been."_

It's too late. He's not paying attention to where he's going because his sensors are locked on Bumblebee. Relief surges through him when Bee rolls out of Hammerbolt’s grip and knocks him down with a precise shot to the head. The feeling is short-lived, as the next second Thundercracker’s wing clips the radio tower on the station near the dam.

Something shudders and chunks inside him. Against his command, he transforms into root mode and plunges into a dizzying free-fall, twisting helm over thrusters towards the Earth. Remaining calm, he tries to transform back to a jet.

A sharp bite of pain flares through his circuits. His transformation protocols aren't responding. Flight controls are non-existent. Ironstar is on his tail, all previous promises of loyalty forgotten as he whoops and fires haphazardly. A lucky shot grazes Thundercracker’s tailfin. A luckier one misses his helm by inches.

The ground is approaching fast and he’s still plummeting through the sky. Flight systems fritz on and off. Correcting his pitch isn't working. A crash is inevitable, and he has to take action _now._  

One doesn't survive as a Seeker without being a quick thinker. As his legs swing towards the ground, he fires his heel thrusters. It's clumsy but it has the desired effect. He rockets towards Ironstar and slams into the inferior flyer with a clang and a punch to the nosecone.

"Mind if I borrow you?" asks Thundercracker, punching him again. He fires his left thruster, twisting them around in mid-air so Ironstar is between him and the rapidly approaching ground.

The crash hurts like hell. It rattles every gear and shocks every nerve relay in his frame. The servos in his left arm buckle. His cockpit glass cracks. He bounces against Ironstar, skips across the ground, and lands in a heap at the bottom of the dam, mere inches away from crashing into the dam itself.

Stumbling to his feet is an exercise in pain. He looks around for his opponent, but Ironstar fared far worse in the crash than he did. The mech is twisted and bent, but he's alive. His optics flicker weakly before he goes offline.

Thundercracker considers shooting him in the exposed spark chamber. He raises his working arm and points his shoulder cannons, but decides against it. The Decepticon is Bumblebee's problem now, and what's the point of killing a weakened and defeated opponent? That's the kind of dishonorable thinking that got them into this mess.

Bumblebee ambles past him and pats him on the arm. He snaps a pair of stasis cuffs on both unconscious Decepticons, and then pulls out a communicator badge and starts speaking into it.

Seeing no more threats, Thundercracker uses the opportunity to dial down his pain sensitivity and examine his readouts. Bent wing. Minor surface wounds. A complex list of corrupted signal paths. He discards all of them to bring up the most pressing injury.

Fragging _Pit._

T-cog fracture. Nothing too bad, fortunately. Self-repair will fix it in about fifty Earth hours. Until then, no flying.

Thundercracker's jet engines sputter. He barely resists the urge to shoot at Bumblebee. He's furious at himself for being so careless, and furious at Bee for putting him in this situation. It's a twenty-hour walk back through the desert so he shouldn't run into any humans. But twenty hours with a cracked T-cog, an aching wing, and sand in his joints doesn't sound very pleasant.

Skywarp would be laughing his aft off right now. Skywarp would also warp him out of here.

"I think we're all set," says Bumblebee. "Skywatch is gonna come pick up the 'Cons. Why don't you fly back to your place? I could meet you later, if you want?"

"I can't fly," says Thundercracker dispassionately.

"What? Why?" Bee’s optics land on Thundercracker's smoking wing. "How badly are you injured?"

The concern is warranted. An injury on an organic planet is a big deal. Not a lot of supplies, not a lot of medics who know how to treat inorganic life. And there's no medic within nine hundred light-years who’d be happy to treat Thundercracker. "Cracked T-cog."

"Scrap," whispers Bee. "Are you in pain?"

"Nothing I can't handle." It's the truth, although it _does_ hurt. No matter how many network pathways he reroutes, he still feels the achy bite deep in his body.

"Okay." Bumblebee transforms into a car. "Drape yourself on top of me. I'll drive you back to my base and have Ratchet treat you."

"No,” says Thundercracker. “Hell no. I'm not subjecting myself to your people if it’s not an emergency. It'll heal on its own. I don't need you." He stomps past Bee, ignoring the flare of pain in his side. "And I'm not riding on you. That's absurd. I'll crush you. You're too weak to carry me." He takes perverse satisfaction in the dip in amplitude in Bumblebee's field. Behind him, there's the sound of metal plates rearranging and locking into place. When he looks back, Bee is in root mode again. "What are you doing?"

The little yellow guy shuffles up next to him. It takes three of his strides to match one of Thundercracker's, but Bee sets a quick pace. "I'm gonna walk with you."

~~~~~~

After five hours, Thundercracker can't decide what's worse. His T-cog jolts pain with every step. The amount of energy devoted to self-repair is sucking up enough processing power to cause an annoying glitch with his vision. And there's the gritty, crunchy feeling of sand in every joint. But it's Bumblebee's incessant chatter that might push him over the edge.

"How are you feeling now?" asks Bee, for the five thousandth time.

"A lot better if you'd stop talking."

"Fine," says Bee. "Will you be offended if I transform and drive? My struts are killing me."

"Whatever.”

Bumblebee transforms into a vehicle again, wheels spinning fast to keep pace with Thundercracker despite how much he's slowed down. "Those 'Cons did a double-take when they saw you."

Thundercracker says nothing, but the mention of Decepticons is like a harpoon through his processor. Skywarp's voice rings in his audials.

_You betrayed us!_

"They looked so hopeful for a second," says Bee. "I think they really did want you to lead them."

"Who cares?"

"They cared.”

Thundercracker could scream. All he wants is to be free of this, but everything's still about Autobots and Decepticons. He whirls on Bee. "Well you know what? I _don't._ That's what I keep trying to tell you. I. Don't. Care. Not about the war. Not about helping the fragging Autobots. And not about being a leader."

Snapping into root mode again, Bumblebee holds up his hands in surrender. "I understand that."

He speaks in a soothing voice that only serves to infuriate Thundercracker further. "Do you!?" he says. “I don't think you do. If you did, you'd stop asking me to help you do _your_ job."

"I appreciate your help," says Bee, still exasperatingly reasonable. "And I'm sorry you got hurt."

"And I'm sorry your own people don't respect you enough as a leader that you have to keep coming to me." There. The shock and dismay on Bee's face feels good, and although it isn't in his nature, Thundercracker can't help but twist the knife in. "Newsflash: you're not Prime. You won a popularity contest for a position that's completely over your head, and you keep covering for that by coming to _me._ "

Bumblebee stands there with his jaw open, vocalizer clicking on and off a few times. "Wow," he finally says. "No wonder you don't have any friends."

"I don't want any."

"Look, TC-"

That's it. That is _it._ "Do NOT call me that!" Thundercracker fights to manually bring his weapons offline and cycle down an encroaching sonic boom. Cold fury and pain spin his engines. "Never call me that. That's not my damn name and you have _no right_ to use it." He looms over Bumblebee. "Get the hell out of my sight. I'm walking back alone. And if you try to follow me, I swear to Megatron I'll shoot you." He's shaking, and the face he sees looking back at him isn't Bumblebee's, but a purple teleporter's.

Bee watches him for a few seconds, hurt shining obvious in his optics. Then he mutters a few words, turns around, and trudges in the direction that'll take him to his own base.

It’s like a fist around Thundercracker's wingtip, quick and tight. Some peculiar feeling that he can't name, but knows will grow worse later. It frags him off even more. "You know it's hopeless, right?" he calls after Bumblebee. "It's hopeless and you're stupid for thinking otherwise."

"I know,” yells Bee into the crisp desert air. But he doesn't turn around.

~~~~~~

Given enough time and channel surfing, the televisions drown everything.

Not tonight.

Thundercracker scratches idly at the paint on his couch. The brilliant blue of the sports car armrest has been peeled away by his incessant scratching to reveal dull silver underneath. It's less interesting than the twenty different human shows filling up the screens in front of him, but it gives him something to do with his hands.

The walk back was a long, humiliating ordeal. By the time he had reached his hideout, sand had found its way into seams he didn't know existed and all non-essential programs had gone offline. He'd all but dragged himself to his couch, crawling onto it to begin the process of waiting for self-repair to fix things. It couldn't be rushed; his body would work to the level of capability and nothing more.

His mood has nosedived further, complete with a gnawing anxiety that feels like guilt. What does he care about Bumblebee's emotions? Bee badgered him into helping, _after interfacing_ when a mech was vulnerable, and he’d been injured as a result. Some friendship.

Thundercracker changes the channel on TV seven and scratches harder at the armrest. Post-war friendships are a lie, despite what he's seen in human movies. Bumblebee may appear honest, but he's skilled in deception. What kind of friendship involves this much fighting and using people?

_You betrayed us - You're a Seeker!_

His fuel pump speeds up, sending energon flowing through his body faster. It makes him hot and restless, so it takes a few minutes to acknowledge the knock on his door and the ping across his commline.

He can read a Cybertronian energy signature on the other side. "Come in," he says, way too quickly for his liking.

Bumblebee slides the door open and slips inside. "Hey.”

He makes immediate eye contact. For some reason, that seems extra annoying. And a relief. And annoying _because_ it's a relief. Thundercracker's spark plummets, his insides slackening like a tense wire given more line. He doesn't want to be happy to see Bumblebee, so he says, "Don't you ever give up?"

"Nope," says Bumblebee, as though it's a personal source of pride to be a persistent little glitch. He produces a cube that looks like standard energon, but with a light blue shimmer. "Don't shoot me. I just came to bring you this."

"What is it?"

"Medical grade energon with healing nanites."

Thundercracker's jaw drops. "You stole this?"

"No!" Bumblebee looks absolutely scandalized. "I asked Ratchet if I could bring you some."

“You...asked him?"

"I told him what happened, and he said it was okay." Bumblebee thrusts the cube at him.

Thundercracker eyes it with a mixture of suspicion and hunger. It'll taste bad, and leave a weird crawling feeling in his mouth, but it'll make him fully functional much faster. "This is a valuable resource. Why are you giving this to me?" 

Bumblebee shoves the cube at him again, forcing him to take it. He then uses Thundercracker's knee for leverage and gracefully vaults onto the couch. Thankfully, now he's not making eye contact. He slumps against Thundercracker and gestures to the screens. "What’re you watching?"

"Some human drama romance thing," says Thundercracker, but then he quickly corrects himself. "Some dramatic slag. It's not very good. Even I could write something better."

"So do it."

"Do what?"

"Write something better," says Bumblebee. "If you really think you could write something better, try. You've got a lot of time on your hands, and it might help you work out some of your feelings."

"Right," says Thundercracker. "My feelings." He doesn’twant to have a conversation about emotions or an awkward apology or some inane talk. He wants to kick Bumblebee out, but he doesn't want him to go.

Bee doesn't miss a beat. "Oh, I forgot. You don't have feelings." He gestures to the cube. "Are you gonna drink that or would you rather keep being a difficult aft?" 

Thundercracker can’t smother his grin. He pops the seal on the cube and takes a large gulp. It tastes like mid-grade spiked with acid and aluminum. He doesn't intend to drink it so sensuously, but he runs his tongue along the rim anyway. Something about the way Bee is watching him spins his turbines fiercely

The nanites creep through his fuel lines. Immediately, he receives information about self-repair progressing faster, and the last of the ache backs off.

"It'll feel better soon," says Bumblebee, looking at him with unashamed concern.

The voltage running through Thundercracker's circuits amps up. His mouth is itching. He thinks about Bumblebee’s face during overload and wishes he hadn't. "I think it's feeling better already."

"Good," says Bee. He shifts like he's about to hop off the couch. "I'm glad you're okay."

He's leaving.

Thundercracker’s hand moves of its own volition, closing around Bumblebee's forearm. "Bee, wait-"

He tugs at Bee, but not very hard. Certainly not hard enough for him to scramble into Thundercracker's lap and close their lips together, melding them into what should be something sloppy and desperate, but instead is soft and achingly sweet. Bumblebee kisses like he speaks, relaxed and gentle with a hard edge lurking underneath. His hands wind around the back of Thundercracker's helm.

They kiss for who knows how long. Maybe his tactile sensors have adapted to Bumblebee's pressure patterns, but the touches are driving Thundercracker crazier than usual. Everywhere Bee’s fingers land transmits a jolt of sensation that’s palpable underneath the armor. It's intoxicating. Thundercracker sweeps his hands up and down Bee's back and flicks his tongue along Bumblebee's lower lip. The TV's blare in the background, almost overwhelming his sudden, embarrassed entreaty of, "I want you."

He's instantly mortified, but it’s worth it when Bumblebee says, "I want you too."

Thundercracker retracts his panel and fumbles with his cords. The power cord slips out of his grasp, and his fingers brush Bumblebee's thigh to pick it up.

"No." Bumblebee's steady hand closes over his. “You’re injured. We should synch to you.”

"Frag that," says Thundercracker. "I'm not _that_ badly injured."

Bee shakes his head and grips his wrist tighter. "Maybe you’re not, but your T-cog is. You could sustain more damage."

" _You_ could sustain damage," says Thundercracker. "I could hurt you."

"You won't,” says Bee. "Your own systems will set the right pace for your body. This is safer."

Bee does have a legitimate point. Really, they could both be injured. One of them could be gravely injured on this strange and fascinating planet and they’d never see each other again. But it makes sense to have the recovering party in charge electrically. Thundercracker grips his own cord tighter. _If he hurts Bee…_

"I trust you," murmurs Bumblebee into his jaw. He tugs out his own three interface cords. "If anything feels uncomfortable, I'll stop."

"Promise?" asks Thundercracker, gaze fixed on the slim black cables in Bumblebee's fingers.

"I promise."

Every promise everyone has ever made to him was broken. Megatron's promises of equality under a single-minded vision. Starscream's promises of the perfect Trine. Skywarp's promises of unbreakable brotherhood.

_You betrayed us!_

But Thundercracker lets him anyway. Bee's disarming nature must be poisoning him, and he's surprised to find he still has a sliver of faith in his fellow mech. Bumblebee keeps dredging it up somehow. Even when he thought it was, _wants it to be_ , dead.

Bumblebee moves slowly and deliberately, like he’s giving Thundercracker a chance to back out at any second. It's interminable, but there’s also a dream-like quality to it. His hands work in slow motion. They plug in the spark cable first, and a heated, invisible tie twists between them.

Next he plugs in the power cable, and Thundercracker is relieved that it actually fits. Bee's equipment is on the smallish side, but his cords still click firmly into Thundercracker's ports. A sweet surge sizzles through his frame, making his fingers tingle and his fuel pump hammer.

Thundercracker feels like he's watching a movie as Bee links them together. The actions are smooth and strange and lurching all at the same time. It's always power-data-spark. Why is Bee changing it now? "You're doing it out of order," he says.

"Hmmm?" Bumblebee looks at him with dim, hazy optics. He plugs in the data cable, and digital transmissions inform each other's sensory procedures that now is the time to experience _pleasure._ A deep, full-body pleasure that makes his wings quiver on their hinges and sends current racing through his frame.

It's like flying. And because Thundercracker's programming sets the pace, it happens _fast._ Bee whimpers and writhes in his lap, clutching any part of Thundercracker that he can grab.

"You ok?" asks Thundercracker.

Bee nods. "Slag you run fast." He kisses Thundercracker again. "More."

Their internal components offer little resistance, and the current increases. It feels _so good_ to have it move this fast, like he’s falling out of himself. Thundercracker wants an explosion. A brief respite from his own mental voice. "Bumblebee," he gasps." _Yes._ ”

He's almost there already. The exchange races at Seeker speeds, and Thundercracker grips Bee's arms. He _needs_ this. Needs Bee. It’s such a relief to feel...

To feel...cared for.

He overloads with a groan deeper than his sonic boom, and his swollen spark erupts into a burst of electricity that trips every circuit in his body. His processor can barely dole out the bliss fast enough, and he moans into Bumblebee’s lips with every convulsion.

And then Skywarp's blaster is in his face. _"What did you just do?! You betrayed us! You betrayed - you're a Seeker!"_

The energon in his tanks suddenly feels hot and sickening, threatening to rise up through his mouth. Aftershocks still jolt his body, and his vents labor with each one. His functions stop working and his cooling system fails, charge bleeding out of him.

He can't control his vocalizer. Releasing Bumblebee, Thundercracker clutches his chest against the narrowness that quickly overtakes his spark chamber.

"Whoa whoa. Hey,” says Bumblebee. “What’s wrong?"

Thundercracker is dying. Nothing works. He's caught in a state of horrible suspended animation as he tries to force some life into his frozen body. Ribbons of light stream from his optics but he can't stop it. It's humiliating.

But he can't stop it. _Betrayer!_

Bumblebee terminates his side of the connection and quickly yanks out his wires. They glow at the ends. He didn't overload but he was close. An interrupted charge like that has to hurt. He's shaking, holding out one hand in surrender. "Easy," he murmurs. "Easy." Wriggling out of Thundercracker's lap, he pushes him forward until there’s enough space for him to ease behind Thundercracker's left wing.

Thundercracker wants to order him to go, wants to beg him to never leave. His optics stray to Bumblebee's dangling cords, which brings a fresh wave of shame.

Bee notices. "It's okay," he says quickly. "I'll take care of it later. Not a big deal."

He's so _gracious_ about it. Thundercracker hates him for it, but then Bumblebee starts touching his wing. Long, sweeping arcs from hinge to tip, followed by firm pressure along the edge. Bee is awkward about it; he certainly lacks the wing massaging finesse of a jet like Starscream. But it takes the hysteria running through him down a notch, allows him to ventilate and move fresh energon through his limbs.

"I have a confession to make," whispers Bee, voice fractured with the static of an unreleased charge. "I don't really think that things are hopeless."

Thundercracker's voices hitches. Bee's fingers feel good, and when the Autobot lightly nudges him toward the edge of the couch so he can reach both wings, Thundercracker obliges with a sigh. The humiliation lingers, but the panic starts to feel...just a little bit more manageable.

Bee keeps stroking him. "I was right, wasn't I?" he asks. "Everything's better with friends."

And sitting in his hideout on a distant alien planet, feeling himself relax by inches at the hands of a former enemy that he almost trusts, Thundercracker has to agree that yeah, it is. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration for this was drawn from a fic I remembered from my Watchmen days: [Flipside](http://archiveofourown.org/works/215968) by Quietprofanity. (NSFW, slash, dark and heavy themes).


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